


in ash and blood

by VOlympianlove



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood and Injury, Forced Orgasm, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Alteration, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suicide Attempt, Treason, Violence, X-EXO Clone Byun Baekhyun, X-EXO Clone Kim Junmyeon | Suho, X-EXO Clone Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27917788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VOlympianlove/pseuds/VOlympianlove
Summary: Yixing's world is ripped out under his feet when he is captured by the emperor who shares his face.
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Zhang Yi Xing | Lay/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31
Collections: EXODEUX Round 1





	in ash and blood

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lovely idea provided by the wonderful A! I won't name you for now just so I don't reveal myself but thank you for giving me the idea and allowing me to run wild! I had no intention of joining this fest at first but X-Lay pulled me in! Hopefully, this did your idea justice!
> 
> Thank you also to S, who betaed this and let me spring all my crazy wild ideas and in turn, sprang HER crazy ideas onto me hehehe. And of course, thank you to the mods for hosting this fest! I very much enjoyed working on this and I hope y'all enjoy reading it!

“Well, well, well.”

The voice made Yixing’s skin crawl. He shuddered, tugging unconsciously at his bonds. Fabric swished over the stairs, boots clicking against stone as the man descended. 

A hand wrapped around Yixing’s chin and yanked, pulling a gasp from his throat.

“I _am_ pretty,” his doppelgänger purred, “so pretty in chains.”

Yixing made a strained sound, forcing his body to remain still.

It was terribly unsettling to see himself in black, when he owned none. All his robes were white. They were symbolic, a mark of his purity.

But now they were tainted. Tainted by this man who shared his face.

“Where are the others?” he rasped, “what have you done to my friends?”

Dark eyes pierced into his, painted lips curling into a cruel smirk.

“Don’t worry about them. They’ll be fine. In fact, they’ll be more than fine.”

Yixing sucked in a sharp breath when he was dragged to his feet. His knee was aching where it had hit the ground hard and the manacles chafed. A guard grabbed his bared wrist, preparing to yank him forward.

His magic burst forth and the man dropped him like a hot coal, screaming. His hand was turning black, the cells dying where they had touched Yixing.

“Clever trick,” the doppelgänger said, lips still curved into that twisted smile. “I can do that too.”

Yixing bit back a retort as his arms were pinned behind his back. The stairs were steep, his knee protesting with every step that he was forced to climb. Black eyes burned into his back whenever he stumbled, pain flaring through his nerves.

The room he was ushered into was plain, the only decorations the talismans painted upon the walls. Written in neat columns, the characters lined every square inch of the walls.

As he passed over the threshold, Yixing shivered. A peculiar sensation slid over his skin, as if he had been coated in a layer of oil. His chest squeezed tight, as if all the air in the room had been sucked out. Panicking, Yixing reached for his magic.

Nothing.

Terror was a lump in his throat when he looked up to see his doppelganger standing in the doorway, still smiling.

“What are those?” he asked, voice trembling as his manacles were fastened to the bedpost. The chains rattled, digging into his skin as he struggled when the man did not answer, merely waving away the guards.

“I have been waiting a _very_ long time to have you, my lotus. Guess what I did in my free time?”

Yixing arched his back, twisting and squirming to get away when slender hands cupped his jaw. Nails dug into his flesh, pulling a yelp from his throat. He kicked out, bringing one knee up hard enough to make his mark. His doppelgänger reeled back.

“You’re feistier than I remember,” he said.

“Don’t touch me, _Lay,_ ” Yixing snapped.

“Oh, you’ll be begging me to touch you soon enough.”

With that, Lay spun on his heel, black robes swirling around him. The door slammed shut and Yixing heard the bolt slide close. He sagged against the post, trembling.

Where, oh where were his friends?

He had not been alone in the temple when Lay’s men attacked and he dreaded the mere thought that his friends might have been dragged into this feud as well. Lay was not a man who knew mercy.

The chains scraped against each other when he moved, screeching in his ears as he tried to get close enough to read the inscriptions on the walls. The words made him shiver. They were unlike any talisman he had ever seen.

As much as he loathed to admit it, Lay’s skill in talismans had only grown since they last met.

The talismans on the walls had been written to suppress his magic. He was powerless within those four walls.

Yixing glanced out of the single window, noting how the sun was setting. He squirmed, twisting until he could reach his bun. It hurt, his waist protesting the strange contortion. But his fingers grasped onto a single hairpin, yanking it out.

It was an awkward angle to hold it, but he had to try.

His hair cascaded down his back as he squirmed around, fiddling with the lock that held his manacles to the wall. If he could just get the tip to fit—

There was a click and the manacle fell away. Yixing exhaled, quickly unpicking the other lock. He slid the pin back into his hair, limping over to the door. The scholar in him could not ignore the talismans, however, and he found himself examining them more closely.

They were expertly written, every stroke neat and precise. It was terrifying to see how much they resembled his own work. Yixing shuddered, turning back to the door.

It was bolted from the outside and likely painted over with talismans as well. Without magic, there was almost no likelihood of him getting it open.

His magic simmered inside him, too far for him to reach. It was pushed back by all those talismans surrounding him. Up till now, Yixing had not realised the extent to which Lay wanted him.

He settled against the door, pressing his ear up against the wood to try and listen for footsteps but there must be silencing charms somewhere. The room was dead quiet, save for his own breathing.

His head was heavy, as if it had been stuffed with cotton wool and his eyelids started to droop not long after.

When Yixing awoke, he was curled up on the bed, a blanket draped over him. He turned over; his eyes crusty from sleep.

The candles were blown out, leaving only the light of the moon shining in from the window. Yixing shifted groggily, his heart skipping a beat when a shadow moved in his peripheral vision.

He reached for his hairpin, his heart dropping to find it missing.

“Looking for this?”

Lay emerged from the darkness, toying with Yixing’s most prized possession. His short hair was ruffled, swept carelessly away from his face. He was smiling, spinning the hairpiece round and round in his hand.

“Give it back.” Yixing sat up, lunging for him. He let out a strangled cry when something yanked him back, metal digging into the tender skin of his wrists.

“I did not know a priest knew how to pick locks,” Lay said, still smiling. He tucked the hairpin behind his ear, a gesture that made Yixing burn with rage.

Lay’s steps were silent as he approached the bed, cutting a stark figure in the darkness. His robes swirled; the fabric so delicate it looked like smoke.

Yixing yanked hard at the chains, the rattle ringing in his ears.

“What do you want from me?” he hissed.

A smooth hand cupped his cheek, thumbing over his cheekbone. Lay’s eyes were as black as night and twice as piercing when he leaned in, so close that Yixing could feel his breath puff over his lips.

His pulse quickened at the proximity and an inexplicable feeling of shame rose up in him.

“All of you, my flower,” Lay purred.

Yixing lurched back, yelping when the pain flared in his wrists.

“Don’t touch me,” he snapped, but there was nowhere else to go. Lay had him backed up against the headboard and the shackles kept him from going too far. “Leave me alone.”

Lay’s eyes glinted at his words, causing dread to pool in Yixing’s belly.

“I told you you will beg for me to touch you,” he said.

His fingers curled around Yixing’s chin and Yixing found himself yanked forward into a searing kiss.

Heat exploded through his veins, raging like a forest fire. Yixing swore his cheeks were aflame, as red as lanterns as he fought to get away. He shoved him back, gasping and panting from the ferocity of the kiss.

Lay was smiling when he backed away, tongue flicking out to moisten his lips.

“Have fun, my lotus. It will be a long night for you and I will gladly enjoy the show.”

Yixing’s skin prickled, Lay’s heated gaze lingering even after he had vanished into the dark. He tugged at his chains, cursing and swearing when they did not give.

There was a strange heat travelling beneath his skin, like an itch he could not quite scratch. Yixing shivered, confused. The room got hotter, sweat beading on his brow.

He was getting too warm, even though his robes were so thin they were almost sheer.

Chewing his lip, Yixing squirmed. He squeezed his eyes shut, grinding his heels into the mattress in an effort to stop the pitched whine from tearing out of his throat.

Arousal was like a candle, its flames catching on the edges of his self-restraint. Yixing arched his back, throwing back his head with a gasp.

His skin was sensitive, almost too sensitive. Every tiny sensation was heightened.

Yixing yanked at the chains once more, crying out when the pain translated into pleasure. Blood travelled south, his cheeks reddening when he realised that his pants were already tented.

Sweat dripped down his face as he squirmed, hips jerking erratically.

“No, no,” he muttered to himself, squeezing his fingers into fists.

The bastard was manipulating him. His _body_ more specifically. Yixing’s cheeks burned as he struggled to keep his composure. There was no way he could sleep like this.

Something brushed against his crotch and an undignified moan fell from his lips. His back arched as his bulge was rubbed, the friction absolutely _delicious_.

All thoughts flew from his mind as he was stimulated, his hips jerking and twitching in mindlessly pleasure.

“You bastard,” he cried as he was dragged into the throes of pleasure, lost to the sensations.

-

“And the sleeping beauty wakes.”

Yixing made a pained sound when he stirred. His wrists were raw and red from where he had strained against the manacles all night, his robes drenched in sweat and stained with white.

He flinched away when he turned his head to see Lay sitting on the edge of his bed, smirking. His hairpin was still tucked neatly behind his ear, the dangling jewels catching the light.

“Did you enjoy yourself, my flower?” Lay purred, catching Yixing’s chin with a finger. “You sounded like you did.”

“You-.” Yixing shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Go away.”

“Oh no, we have too much to do today, my lotus.”

Yixing yelped when a rough hand grasped his hair and yanked. Pain seared through his scalp and he scrambled, crying out in pain when he was manhandled onto the floor.

“Come, my flower. You must be bathed.”

Yixing was in far too much pain to protest as he was dragged to his feet by his ponytail, Lay humming under his breath.

He did yelp, however, when hands grasped at the fastenings of his robes.

“What- what are you doing?” he gasped, scrambling to get away. His chains yanked back and he stumbled, cheeks flushing when he nearly fell.

“Don’t worry, I won’t defile you just yet,” Lay purred, loosening the ties around Yixing’s waist enough to expose his chest.

Yixing watched in horror as Lay bit his finger, drawing blood. He flinched, trying to squirm away when Lay pressed the bleeding finger onto his chest.

His touch burned like fire in his veins as the rune was drawn onto him in blood.

“There. Now come.”

He was bodily dragged out of the room. Yixing flushed under the scrutiny of all the guards they passed, his chains jangling as he was led to the bathhouse.

“I will not bathe in your presence,” he said, trying to sound firm.

“That’s not an option, my lotus,” Lay replied, stepping up to him. Yixing took a step back, bumping hard into the pillar.

He cried out in protest when Lay grabbed him by the front of his robes, tearing them open. They were already ruined, with sweat and cum but they were the only ties he had left to his old life.

The flimsy white silk pooled at his feet as he was shoved down the steps and into the bath. The water steamed around him, smelling of white jasmine.

Yixing floundered, half afraid that he should be drowned when his chains were picked up. But Lay merely shackled them to the walls of the bath.

He had tied them short, such that Yixing could not move far. Not that he could do much, with his powers bound by the talisman on his chest.

The ribbon in his hair was unwound, his hair spilling down his back. Yixing shivered, tugging at his chains unconsciously.

“Don’t, my flower.”

He jerked away when Lay’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. It was disconcerting to look down and see his own hand holding him so gently.

“Please let me go,” he begged as his wrist was taken and cold lips pressed against the red, raw marks.

“You know I can’t do that, dearest,” Lay murmured. He released Yixing’s wrist, combing fingers through the waterfall of black that was Yixing’s hair.

“This is beautiful. It is a pity that we must get rid of all of it,” Lay said, pursing his lips. A cold fist wrapped around Yixing’s heart.

He had not cut his hair since he was a child, born to the temple. Their hair was meant to be worn long, a binding oath. To have it cut off in such a way-.

“No, please!” he gasped, struggling when the hand curled tight around his hair, dragging him back. Pain lanced through his scalp as he fought but he had no leverage.

His head was laid over the edge of the tub, his hair trailing all the way to the floor.

Yixing yanked and twisted but Lay held firm.

The sound of a knife being drawn from its sheath made his blood chill and he fought even harder. He sobbed when he felt the knife’s edge press against his hair, his heart in his throat.

In one fluid stroke, the hair was cut, falling into a neat heap at the base of the tub.

Yixing gasped, his hands flying up to touch. The edges were rough and ragged and there was wind on the back of his neck, a feeling that he had not experienced in _years_.

“Much better,” Lay purred, sheathing his blade.

Yixing made a choked noise, a sob bubbling up in his throat. He trembled as Lay gathered up the hair from the floor, binding it into a nice little bundle with his ribbon.

“There now, don’t cry,” Lay said, thumbing over his cheekbone. He was still smiling, as if he revelled in Yixing’s pain.

Yixing jerked away from him, yanking and struggling so hard that water splashed into the air.

“You-.” He let out an agonised sob when pain bolted through his nerves, piercing through his chest. Yixing doubled over, gasping as fingers laced through his now short hair.

He squirmed when his head was tugged back, his neck laying across the edge of the tub like a guillotine.

“None of that now, my flower.” Lay’s eyes were dark, pools of soulless black that made fear coil in Yixing’s belly.

“I am not your-, ah!” Yixing screamed again, yanking so hard on his chains that he bled, red trickling into the water.

“Oh dear, look what you’ve done,” Lay cooed, unshackling the chains from the wall.

Yixing flushed red as he was dragged out of the pool. He was naked, save for the chains wrapped around his wrists and the rune etched on his chest.

“Look, I even had robes made in your colour,” Lay said, looping the chains roughly around a red pillar. He stepped away for a second, before returning with two piles of neatly folded robes.

“Do you want the blue or white? Not that it really matters. I’ll be taking them off soon.”

Lay’s smile was wicked, so completely contradictory to the dimple that flashed in his cheek.

Yixing swallowed, turning his head away. He did not wish to speak.

The fear reared its head when Lay’s tone grew softer, more dangerous.

“Choose, my lotus, or you shall walk without them.”

Yixing inhaled sharply, squeezing his fingers in fists.

“The blue,” he said lowly, shuddering when Lay hummed in satisfaction.

The robes were made of sky-blue cotton, soft and beautiful against his pale skin. They smelled of jasmine, reminding him of the bushes that grew near the temples.

Despite what he had said about taking the robes off, Lay took extra care with Yixing’s appearance, as if he were a doll he wanted to show off.

When the shackle on his left wrist was removed, Yixing lashed out. He clocked Lay across the jaw, pain splitting across his knuckles when it collided against bone.

Lay stumbled back, stunned for a brief moment. His eyes flashed and then Yixing screamed, doubling over as pain exploded through the rune, as if a thousand needles had pierced him at once.

“Nice try,” Lay murmured, catching his wrist. “But without your powers, you are no match for me.”

Yixing cried out when he twisted his arm behind him. They were toe to toe, Lay so close that he could feel his breath puffing over his lips. His cheeks burned as Lay slid the robe over his shoulder, his tender touch contrasting greatly against the vice grip he had on his wrist.

He dared not try again when his other wrist was unshackled.

“Come now. You have cost us time,” Lay clicked his tongue, shaking his head at Yixing when his robes had been fastened and the shackles replaced.

He cupped Yixing’s cheek, leaning in. The kiss seared across Yixing’s lips, his knees turning to jelly.

Heat burned through his veins, the world spinning. Yixing gasped, clinging onto the shackles for dear life as Lay smoothed a finger over his cheekbone. He could not help but follow as he was dragged away, back to the room full of talismans.

Sweat dripped down his forehead as he was sat in front of a stone table, a bowl of congee placed before him. There was even a salted duck egg and the pickled lettuce that he always had at the temple.

“Eat, my flower.” Lay gestured, his sleeve brushing over Yixing’s shoulder. “I shall neaten up your haircut.”

Yixing flinched when he touched him, hands trembling as he folded them primly in his lap. He refused to even touch the chopsticks as Lay grasped at the rough ends of his hair, the gentle snip snip making his heart clench.

“Why do you not eat, my lotus? You shall wither away if you don’t,” Lay cooed when he was finished. He kissed the top of Yixing’s head and cold fingers wrapped around Yixing’s hand.

The chopsticks were placed firmly in his palm but Yixing ignored him, letting them clatter uselessly to the ground.

“My lotus.” Lay’s voice was stern now, the fluttering of his robes making Yixing shiver as he crossed the room to sit before him. “Eat.”

A new set of chopsticks were placed before him, made of black wood.

Yixing stared at it, chewing his lip.

The bowl with the salted egg was pushed before him, the smell turning his stomach. He swallowed, fingers clenching in his lap. His nails dug into the flesh of his palms, leaving crescents in the skin.

“Where are my friends?” he asked instead, his eyes zeroing in on the hairpin Lay still wore in his hair. His heart clenched.

Junmyeon had given him that pin.

Lay’s glare pinned him in his seat, the wicked smile dancing on his lips making bile rise in Yixing’s throat.

“Behave yourself, little star and they shall not be harmed.”

Yixing went pale, gripping the fabric of his robes.

“You have them,” he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Lay shrugged, leaning over to sneak a bite of Yixing’s breakfast. His fingers toyed with the dangling jewels on Yixing’s hairpin as he flashed him another smile. Yixing had the irrational urge to reach over and pull it out.

It was _his_.

“I want to see them,” he said, “please.”

“Them? Or perhaps you want to make sure I haven’t harmed the pretty one who gave you this?” Lay’s smile grew wider when Yixing recoiled.

“Don’t- I’ll do anything, please,” Yixing pleaded.

“Of course, you will. You’re mine now, my flower. Now eat. I have plans for you.”

Lay rose from his seat, tapping on the chopsticks.

“Eat.”

Yixing ate, with his hands trembling under the weight of Lay’s gaze. He picked at the duck egg, stirring it into the plain rice porridge until it had disappeared.

It would be a waste not to eat it.

Salted eggs were a rare commodity at the temple.

“Good boy,” Lay cooed when Yixing set down his chopsticks, the bowl empty. There were only eggshells left. “Do you want a reward?”

Yixing shuddered.

A hand slid over his shoulders, the touch burning. He squeezed his eyes shut when a mouth pressed against the side of his neck, trailing butterfly kisses along his shoulder.

“Please let me see my friends,” he gritted out.

“Indulge me. And I’ll indulge you,” Lay murmured into his ear.

Yixing let out a shaky breath, his body going slack as slender fingers wrapped around his waist. They trailed up his abdomen, tickling over his nipples.

The robe was unfastened and a hand slid inside, stroking over his collarbones. A warm chest pressed against his back, a hot mouth nibbling at his neck.

He dared not move as his robes were slid off his shoulders, pooling around his waist.

“Look at you. Such a fragile little flower,” Lay said.

His breath was warm, brushing over Yixing’s bare skin. He kissed his shoulder tenderly and Yixing shivered.

“Don’t you like it, my lotus?” Lay purred, mouthing as his skin. He bit him, tongue laving over the bite mark to soothe it.

Yixing buried his hands into the fabric of his robes, arching back with a choked cry when Lay bit him again. This time was hard enough to almost break skin.

“You’re beautiful when you’re scared,” Lay murmured, pulling his mouth away. He traced his fingers over the reddened skin, prodding at the bruises.

Yixing whimpered, his legs trembling as he was dragged to his feet. Heat poured through his veins, his cheeks lighting on fire when his new robes fell to the floor.

“Oh dear,” Lay smirked, reaching around before Yixing could try to stop him. “What a predicament.”

Yixing yelped when a rough hand cupped his cock, squeezing harshly. He shuddered, jerking back- right into Lay’s arms.

“What- what are you doing?” he panted, squirming as Lay massaged up and down the length of his manhood. He was growing hard, his body betraying him as he spasmed and jerked against Lay’s strong chest.

“What does it look like, lotus? How long ago have you been touched? You’re practically starved for it.”

A particularly hard stroke made Yixing gasp, his body burning. He was certain he was red all the way down as he shook and struggled not to cry out. Pleasure was a low burning flame in his belly, growing ever brighter as Lay stroked, rolling his balls between his fingers.

“A-ah!” he whined, teetering on the cusp of pleasure when Lay dug a finger into his leaking slit, clicking his tongue.

“You’re making a right mess of your new robes, my flower,” he cooed, forcing Yixing to look down at the wet patch that had soaked into the blue fabric.

Yixing sobbed when he thumbed over the head, his throat working. He grasped at Lay’s hips, heat burning in his cheeks when he felt a hard length press between his butt cheeks.

“Nngh,” he moaned when Lay pinched his balls, grasping helplessly for something, _anything_ to ground him.His belly pitched, every stroke over his member sending tremors through his body.

“Ah-!”

A hand cupped his ass, a thumb pressing against his furled entrance and Yixing arched with a cry, his legs turning to jelly. Yixing’s cheeks flushed when he nearly fell, Lay’s arms coming around him.

Wet lips mouthed over his neck and he saw stars, breathing stuttering as pleasure coiled like a viper in his belly. It was too much, too much as Lay worked him over, his body writhing out of his control.

Yixing screamed when his knees buckled, his cock spilling white over Lay’s hand. Pleasure burned through his veins, overwhelming him.

He sagged against Lay, panting.

“You look beautiful like this,” Lay whispered into his ear, smoothing hands down his sides and along the meat of his thighs. Yixing shuddered, trying to curl into himself.

“May I- may I see my friends now?” he asked weakly.

“Would you like to see them naked, my lotus?” Lay’s voice turned sharp. He released Yixing so suddenly that he fell, knees first into the pool of blue robes. “Put on your clothes.”

His gaze burned as Yixing tugged on the soiled robes, cheeks so red that they could have burst into flames at any moment.

“You said to indulge you-,” Yixing tried, his hands shaking as he fastened his robes.

“I never said when.”

Lay’s smile was wicked when Yixing’s face contorted.

“Ah, my flower. You look so beautiful when you’re upset with me,” he cooed, stroking a hand along Yixing’s arm. “Come here, give me a kiss.”

Yixing resisted, jerking back when warm lips pressed against his. Strong arms snaked around his waist and held him still, rendering him immobile.

He bit him hard, sinking his teeth into soft lips until he broke skin but to his surprise, Lay only laughed.

“You’re feisty, Yixing ah,” Lay said, pulling away. Crimson dripped from his lips, staining his hands when he wiped it away, grinning.

Yixing shuddered, taking a step back.

But there was nowhere to go.

“What do you want?” he demanded, “why raid the temple when we have done nothing?”

Lay raised his eyebrows, stepping forward. He cupped Yixing’s cheek, ignoring the way Yixing cringed from his touch.

“Look at yourself,” he said, turning Yixing’s head sharply towards the only mirror in the room.

“I look like you,” Yixing said, stubbornly balling his fists in the fabric of his robes. “We’ve established that well before _this._ ”

“And you share my powers,” Lay said thoughtfully, stroking Yixing’s chin as if he were a beloved pet. “Can you see where I’m going, my flower?”

Yixing went pale. He looked at the blood-red rune decorating the left side of his collarbone, body beginning to tremble.

“You mean to control me,” he whispered, raising a hand to touch the rune.

“I knew you were smart, my lotus,” Lay praised. “Now.” He leaned in close, until his breaths brushed over the shell of Yixing’s ear. “Be grateful that it was I who ascended this throne, dearest. My brothers are not so merciful.”

“What of my friends?” Yixing whirled around, squeezing his fists so tight that his nails dug into the flesh of his palms, leaving crescents in their wake. “What are you going to do with them?”

“Priests are always useful.” Lay shrugged, “no matter what my brothers think.”

In a blur of motion, Yixing’s wrists were cuffed once more and he was led to the bed. The shackling of the chains around the bedposts clanged in his ears and once more, he was bound to the bed, only able to walk a few paces from it.

“Be good, my flower. We have an audience later,” Lay sang, tucking a lock of Yixing’s hair behind his ear.

Yixing watched him leave, his heart sinking to his toes.

He had heard of Lay’s “brothers” as he called them. Each one crueler than the next, vying for the throne. How Lay managed to eliminate the first three would always remain a mystery.

No one could accuse him, for he had another “brother” the same age. They split the kingdom evenly. Suhø took the northern territories and Lay, the south.

Yixing had heard speculation that Suhø murdered the eldest, Xiümin, in his bed, drawing all the water from his body while he slept a drugged sleep. That they poured mercury into Han’s bath until he went insane before Lay put him down.

Kris’ dragon wings were found severed from his body, blackened from poison. Rumour had it that Suhø still kept those wings, pinned up like a grotesque trophy in his castle.

He shivered, settling himself on the bed. Lay had given him enough slack this time to sit, though the manacles chafed at the sore skin on his wrists. His mind drifted to the first time he had ever met Lay, before he had become the emperor of the Southern kingdom.

Junmyeon had always warned them not to cross into northern territory where the imperial brothers lived with their mother, for the empress was not kind to trespassers. But Yixing had wandered too far from their temple, in search of a very particular kind bamboo.

He heard the soldiers before he saw them, waves of men dressed in the red colours of the empress dowager wading through the thick bamboo forest. They were shouting, sunlight glinting off the tips of their spears and shields.

Yixing snatched up his basket and spade, breaking into a run. The bamboo trees blurred around him, blood roaring in his ears as he picked his way over rocks and dirt paths, his white robes stark against the emerald of the forest.

The soldiers were clearly not good climbers as they crashed and stumbled while Yixing ran ahead, nimble as a mountain goat. He went around them, weaving between thickets of thorns and bamboo.

A hand clamped around his mouth before he could cross back into southern lands, yanking him back. Yixing’s magic reacted at once, surging up to destroy the cells of the hand that dared to touch him.

But the person did not react.

“Don’t scream or the guards will come running.”

The voice sent shivers down his spine. Yixing went still, his heart pounding.

It was _his_ voice.

The hand pulled away slowly and Yixing whirled, reaching for the knife he kept hidden in the folds of his robes.

“Heavens above,” the man hissed, “what sorcery-.”

“I should ask you the same thing,” Yixing snapped, “why do you look like that?”

For when he looked up into the man’s face, it was like staring into a mirror. But where his hair fell to his waist, bound with a blue ribbon into a neat ponytail, this man had short cropped hair growing wildly out of his head. His robes were black, stitched with gold and Yixing could just barely make out the shape of a dragon embroidered onto the rich silk.

“You wield my magic,” he said, lowering his knife.

“You’re the priest,” the man said, wide-eyed, “the one that lives on the mountain.”

A chill shivered down Yixing’s spine and he raised his knife again. It would not do for anyone to find their resting place.

Before either of them could speak, raised voices reached their ears.

“I saw one. The one that looks like Fourth Brother.”

“Lay will deal with him. Or he’ll take him as a pet, the narcissus.”

Yixing’s face paled and he lashed out, the edge of his knife catching the white arm of the man he now knew was a prince.

Lay, fourth in line for the throne shared his _face._

A hand caught his wrist and he yanked, swearing when pain bloomed across his nerves. His skin had blackened, the cells dying.

“You-.”

“Be quiet. If my brothers find you, you’re dead,” Lay hissed, sidestepping warily. He clutched his arm, sketching a talisman on his skin in blood.

With a snarl, Yixing sliced his knife across his own palm. Crimson blood beaded to the surface, spilling down his arm.

He drew his talisman in mid-air and the plants came to life.

Yixing did not stop to hear Lay’s screams when the long tendrils seized his arms. He fled, more plants growing over his tracks.

That was not the only time they had met.

Lay grew bolder and bolder as time passed and Yixing caught glimpses of him in the bamboo forest surrounding the temple. Each time they crossed paths sent shivers down his spine.

The resemblance was uncanny.

Yixing chased him away with his magic, growing bushes with thorns and causing Lay’s arms to blister and burn. It was harder to hurt him, because they wielded the same power.

But Yixing discovered that it _was_ possible, though Lay was better at it than he was.

“Why do you come here?” Yixing hissed. Dark eyes peeked out from the thick undergrowth, almost cheekily.

With a wave of his hand, he sent a talisman flying through the air. Satisfaction surged through him when he heard the prince yelp and stagger back, crashing through the bamboo trunks.

“To see you,” Lay purred, “it isn’t every day that you discover someone who shares your face.”

Yixing blasted another talisman into the darkness, lips twitching when he heard another cry.

“Get out,” he said calmly, “this isn’t your place, Your Highness.”

“One day it will be,” came the reply. Yixing stiffened, his back straightening.

Lay’s tone was full of greed, his eyes burning into his skull. He was huddled in the darkness of the forest but Yixing could feel him, feel the power that radiated off him.

“One day, I will own _you._ ”

“Never,” Yixing snapped at once. “I will never bow to you.”

“One day, my flower,” Lay sang blithely, ignoring him, “one day we shall meet again and you will _kneel_.”

Blinking hard, Yixing opened his eyes to see the talismans written all over the room. Living proof of the prince’s morbid fascination with the person who shared his face.

They were for _him_. All for him.

He shuddered, bringing his knees up to his chest.

The uncertainty scared him. He had no idea where Junmyeon and Baekhyun were, or what Lay intended for them. What he intended for _him._

He startled when the doors opened, armed guards swarming into the room. Rough hands grabbed his arms, dragging him from the bed.

“The emperor requests your presence.”

“He could not have come for me himself?” Yixing gritted out, cursing when he stumbled, nearly turning his foot.

No one answered him as he was dragged from the room, chains jangling.

He heard the voices before they entered the throne room, Lay’s laughter ringing the loudest amongst them all.

“Your Majesty.”

Yixing scoffed at the title, nearly biting off his own tongue when he was shoved forward.

“Oh, what a change,” cried one voice. Yixing turned his head to see a young man seated at Lay’s left side. His hair was the colour of snow, a single braid falling over one shoulder.

Deceptively innocent grey eyes blinked back at him, highlighted by the silver chain the man wore over the bridge of his nose.

“He’s disgusting, that’s what he is,” said another.

A tremor ran through Yixing when he saw the other speaker.

He wore the colours of his mother, the empress, a crimson robe embroidered over with golden dragons. His hair was as red as his robes, styled up into two points.

Sky blue eyes flitted over Yixing’s body; red mouth twisted.

“Now, now, Suhø. He is my pet and you mustn’t speak like that about him,” Lay admonished. He looked regal in his carved throne, having changed out of his simple robes and into more formal ones.

The symbol of the emperor writhed on the fabric, a golden dragon slithering down the left panel of the robe.

“God, he’s so… _white_ ,” Suhø sneered, twisting the rings on his fingers. His gaze burned, dragging up and down Yixing’s body as he was pushed forward.

“They all are,” said the first man, “I hear my double is even whiter. He looks different with his hair cut short.”

His smile was wicked when he turned back to Lay, toying with the cup on the table.

“You still have them, don’t you, brother dear? Won’t you let us see them? It’s so amusing.”

Baëkhyun. That’s who he was. The sadistic younger brother. He had a hand in the murders of the first three brothers and as a reward, was given the wild Inbetween to rule.

“I do,” Lay said, smirking when Yixing’s chains were tossed to him. He yanked and Yixing stumbled forward.

His cheeks burned as Lay perched him on his lap, like a spoilt child.

“You ought to kill them. No good will come of having these _things_ ,” Suhø growled, thumping his fist on the table.

Yixing’s breath hitched when Lay drew him closer, one hand curved possessively around his waist.

“You’re such a narcissist, brother dear. He looks just like you,” Baëkhyun cut in, his eyes flicking over Yixing’s body.

Lay’s smile grew wider.

To Yixing’s horror, he set his chin upon his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the column of his neck.

“He does, doesn’t he? So beautiful,” he cooed, stroking a hand along Yixing’s side.

Yixing made a sound of protest, trying to squirm away but Lay merely wrapped the chains around his throat. He jerked, gasping when the cold metal pressed hard into his skin.

“He’s a feisty one, I’ll admit. The others were much easier to tame,” Lay said, his arm winding around Yixing’s waist to pull him fully into his lap.

“Give me the one called Junmyeon and let me crush him,” Suhø said, cracking his neck, “I don’t want a priest with my face running around.”

Yixing stiffened, ready to cry out but the chains pulled tighter and he choked on his words.

“He is mine, Suhø. As we agreed. You take Mother’s lands and I get Father’s. The priests live on the edge of the southern lands and they belong to me.”

Lay’s tone was mild but the way his nails dug into Yixing’s flesh was anything but.

“And you can control them?” Suhø raised an eyebrow.

Lay stiffened, his back straightening. He turned his head, moving to place his hand on Yixing’s shoulder.

“Bring them in,” he said.

Baëkhyun clapped his hands in delight when the doors opened and Yixing’s heart leapt.

Junmyeon was the first to stumble into the throne room. His robes were streaked with grey, his hair greasy as if it had not been washed since his kidnapping.

There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek and a bruise on the other.

“Junmyeon!” Yixing cried, squirming in Lay’s lap. Lay yanked hard on the chains and he gasped, hands flying to his throat.

“Behave,” Lay growled into his ear as he struggled, back arched.

“Yixing!” Junmyeon lunged but was stopped short by the length of his chains. He staggered back, crying out when he was kicked onto his knees.

“Don’t- don’t hurt him, please,” Yixing pleaded, gasping when Lay only drew the chain tighter around his throat.

“I won’t. Not if you behave, sweet pea.” Lay’s tone was saccharine, sending shivers down Yixing’s spine.

“Oh, brother dear, do let me have that one. He looks _delicious_ ,” Baëkhyun purred, his gaze dragging up and down over Baekhyun’s body.

The youngest priest shuddered even as he was pushed down onto his knees beside Junmyeon.

“You’ll only torture him to death and that would be a waste of a pretty face,” Lay said. His tone was pleasant enough but there was an edge to it, promising painful things if his brother pushed him any further.

Baëkhyun pouted, rising to his feet.

“May I at least touch him? It would be a shame not to hear him scream,” he said, wandering over to where Baekhyun knelt.

Yixing yanked against his chains, gasping when Lay seized his cropped hair. He tugged hard enough for pain to lance through Yixing’s scalp, pulling a yelp from his throat.

“Have your fun, brother. But leave him alive,” Lay said, “I have my uses for him.”

“N-no!” Yixing cried, powerless as Lay wrested him under control.

A smile spread across Baëkhyun’s face as he leaned down, grasping the chain linked to Baekhyun’s collar. He pulled and Baekhyun cried out, staggering forward on his knees like a dog.

“Oh, he cries like a bitch,” Baëkhyun purred, cupping Baekhyun’s face in one hand. He flashed a razor-sharp nail, pressing the tip into Baekhyun’s grey streaked face.

Baekhyun whimpered, a muffled plea spilling from his lips that went unheard.

He screamed when Baëkhyun cut him, fresh blood pooling under the tip of his nail, trickling down his skin. Baëkhyun held him still, laughing as he writhed against his chains, sobbing until he dropped him like a potato sack onto the ground.

Junmyeon roared, yanking at his bonds until his guards had to pull him back, the collar around his throat practically throttling him.

Yixing squirmed and twisted in Lay’s arms, horror filtering through him as he watched Baëkhyun kick Baekhyun over onto his back. His heavy boot crushed onto Baekhyun’s chest so violently that a bone snapped.

Baekhyun’s scream pierced like a knife through Yixing’s heart as he fought, broken pleas mingling with Baekhyun’s agonized shrieks. Baëkhyun knew no mercy, his eyes alight with a glint that made shivers run down Yixing’s spine.

He caught up Baekhyun’s neck, squeezing until his screams went silent and Baekhyun fell still in his arms.

“Oh, thank god,” Suhø said, lips twitching when Baëkhyun dropped his doppelgänger, chains clinking noisily. “Is he dead?”

Yixing made an anguished sound and Lay touched his cheek tenderly, mouth so close to his ear that he shivered.

“You can feel him, can’t you?” he whispered, “is your friend dead to you?”

Yixing bit down so hard on his lip that he tasted blood. He shook his head, cringing when Lay wiped away the tears that he did not know had fallen.

“Brother dearest would never forgive me if I had killed him,” Baëkhyun sneered, kicking Baekhyun’s unconscious body carelessly. “Though he deserves it, sullying my face and my body with that _wretched_ man.”

“Jongdae,” Lay said calmly. “Lovely boy.”

His lips were quirked when Yixing turned to look at him, as if he knew a secret no one else did.

Yixing shivered when his hot breath drifted over the shell of his ear, Lay practically breathing the words into him.

“He had a thing for Jongdae.”

It was hard to imagine Baëkhyun, a ruthless killer having a soft spot for anyone but he certainly showed it through the jealousy written all over his face.

Lay made a gesture with his hands, his sleeves fluttering with the motion and Yixing found himself shoved off his lap and onto his knees. He tried to make a sound but it was lodged in his throat, his lips refusing to part.

“Well, that was exciting,” Lay said, sweeping down from his throne to join his brothers at the table. He paid no heed to the prisoners still kneeling at the dais, plucking up the golden teacup.

A twitch of his finger and Junmyeon was dragged forward, his eyes screaming murder.

“Drink up.”

Yixing screeched in horror, sound muffled in his throat. His chains rattling as he fought to get free.

Junmyeon’s eyes were defiant when Lay forced the cup between his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed, tea dripping out of the corner of his mouth. Lay pulled back the cup, watching him closely.

Several beats passed by and Junmyeon remained still, unharmed.

“Wonderful,” Lay purred, taking a sip from the very same cup.

He picked up his chopsticks, cutting into the fish while his brothers watched. A bite was fed to Junmyeon, assuring them that the food was safe before any of the brothers picked up their chopsticks.

“He certainly is useful as a taster,” Suhø sniffed as he ate, “but I would rather he be dead.”

“Well, I prefer him very much alive,” Lay said, “priests have their uses after all.”

His brothers said nothing after, though Baëkhyun still leered at Junmyeon and Yixing, multiple times throughout the meal. He frightened Yixing, with his strange grey eyes and white hair.

Baëkhyun was as wild and unpredictable as the Inbetween he ruled, like a beast with a taste for blood. Many might even say he was the most bloodthirsty of the three remaining and it was only by sheer willpower and clever negotiations that kept him from trying to overthrow either of the emperors.

Yixing shuddered to imagine what he would have done to the temple and them, if he had been the one to ascend the Southern throne.

After each dish had been tasted, Junmyeon was hauled to his feet. He baulked, but the soldiers were firm, dragging him to join Baekhyun, who had awoken.

The shackles cut into Yixing’s wrists when he yanked, making desperate noises in his throat as he watched his friends be taken away. Only a sharp look from Lay made him quiet, goosebumps rising on his flesh.

“Your pet is restless, brother dear,” Baëkhyun said, eyes sliding to Yixing.

“He’ll settle,” Lay said, dismissive.

“I assume he will be your concubine,” Suhø said, tilting his head. The disgust in his tone was clear. He wanted no part of this and would sooner have Yixing killed.

Yixing shivered, recoiling. He folded himself back, leaning against the foot of the throne.

“He will,” Lay confirmed.

Shivers wracked Yixing’s body when he turned his gaze onto him.

Oh, he was in for it now.

-

The last thing he had expected after that horrifying dinner was Lay dragging him down to the castle’s dungeons. Every level that they passed grew colder than the previous one and Yixing was shivering by the time they arrived at the last.

His eyes grew wide however when the rusted metal gates were swung open, creaking noisily and he caught sight of who was standing in the first cell.

“Junmyeon!”

“Oh, Yixing, your hair!” Junmyeon cried. He tugged at the chains, staggering when he tried to walk. His white robes were streaked with dirt and he was so thin and wan that Yixing’s breath caught when he saw him.

Yixing tripped over his own feet, nearly falling over in his haste to get to his side. He cupped Junmyeon’s cheek, hands shaking.

“You’ve lost so much weight. Have they been feeding you?” he exclaimed, turning to glare at Lay. Lay raised his eyebrows back at him, lounging casually in the doorway.

His lips were twisted like he was displeased.

Yixing ignored him, running his fingers through Junmyeon’s hair. It was still long but greasy like it had not been washed in a while.

Bending, he pressed his lips to Junmyeon’s dirty cheek.

“What has he done to you?” Junmyeon rasped when Yixing wrapped his arms around him in a hug. He looked positively horrified.

Yixing reached up, touching the short ends self consciously.

“I’m alright,” he said softly, “he hasn’t hurt me.”

“Yet,” Junmyeon murmured.

“Why should I hurt my concubine?” Lay cut in, lips curling into a smirk at the hate-filled glare Junmyeon shot his way. “He is _delicious._ ”

Yixing turned away, burying his face into the crook of Junmyeon’s neck. He could feel him bristling at the implications of those words.

“Yixing, you haven’t-.”

“Don’t,” he whispered, fingers clenching in the fabric of Junmyeon’s robes.

“You fucking bastard! I’ll kill you- _ah_!”

“Don’t hurt him!” Yixing spun around, wide-eyed when Junmyeon spasmed in his arms, face contorting in agony. “You _promised._ ”

A hand grasped hold of his hair and he cried out, hands flying up. The pain lanced through his scalp and he staggered back, whimpering when Lay kicked him to his knees.

“I’m not very pleased with you, my flower. That behaviour at lunch?”

Lay spat down at him. Yixing cringed away when the spit landed on his cheek, glancing at Junmyeon find him glaring, his eyes murderous.

“He is not a toy,” Junmyeon hissed, fingers flexing in his bonds. He still radiated power, even chained up and beaten.

“No, he isn’t,” Lay purred, crouching to curl a finger under Yixing’s chin. “He’s _mine.”_

“Where’s Baekhyun?” Yixing gasped, his scalp still tingling. “Your brother beat him. His ribs-.”

“Don’t worry about him. He lives,” Lay said, smirking. “This one on the other hand.”

His expression morphed into one of disdain when Junmyeon’s chains rattled, the priest trying to crawl towards them.

“He lives too,” Yixing said firmly, trying not to shake. “You said you valued priests.”

“I do. Oh well. He’ll prove useful one day,” Lay shrugged, his fingers hooking like claws into the back of Yixing’s collar. Yixing did not even have time to cry out before he was dragged to his feet.

“Yixing!” Junmyeon called, so anguished that Yixing wrenched himself out of Lay’s grip.

Pain burst through the rune carved on his chest and he screamed, collapsing to the ground.

“Time to go, my lotus,” Lay said, his tone cold enough to freeze.

Yixing ignored him, gasping through the blinding pain to crawl towards Junmyeon. Every step sent a knife stabbing into his chest, twisting and carving into flesh and bone. He tasted blood on his tongue, barely realizing that he had bitten through his own lip.

“I’ll find you,” he whispered, putting his arms around Junmyeon, who clung to him as much as he could. “Hang on for me.”

Junmyeon screamed.

Yixing lurched back, crumpling the dirty floor in agony. The rune seared over his skin, hot and cold, like a thousand knives piercing him. Yet nothing hurt more than hearing Junmyeon call his name as he was dragged bonelessly out of the cell.

-

“You- this is wrong!” Yixing gasped, his back arching off the bed. He was trapped, his wrists bound in silk scarves so tight that he could barely feel them anymore.

Lay’s hand burned as it trailed down his abdomen, stroking over flexed muscles. He arched with a cry when a finger flicked over his nipple.

“You’re right, my lotus. It is positively sinful,” he purred, bending to lock his mouth around Yixing’s peaked bud.

Yixing squeaked, shaking his head. His cheeks flushed and he turned his face away.

“Look at me, my flower,” Lay demanded like a petulant child. He bit down hard, the stinging pain sending shockwaves of pleasure through Yixing’s body.

Yixing gasped, arching his back. Lay’s mouth burned as he kissed along his abdomen, pausing to leave tiny love bites all over his collarbones.

“Please- you can’t-.” He shook when a hot mouth pressed against the column of his neck.

“I can’t?” Lay murmured into his skin. Yixing whimpered when he nipped at his neck, tongue leaving over the bites. It tickled and he wanted to move away but the scarves did not allow him much movement.

This was his punishment, he was certain. For disobeying. He could fight back but Lay would hurt him. Or Junmyeon.

Possibly both.

Yixing choked down a cry, gripping the scarves so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying that it would be over soon.

The night was a blur of pain and pleasure and Yixing was grateful that he remembered only fragments when he awoke. The red lines on his back left by a whip were healed over, scratches on his thighs only white lines.

There was no sign of Lay when he sat up in bed, already dressed in a clean robe. Even the sheets held no evidence of what happened the night before.

Still, Yixing felt filthy, as if a layer of dirt had settled over his skin for good. He scrubbed at his arms listlessly when the guards came to collect him for his bath until the white skin had turned red.

They burned, but it felt good when he dragged blunt nails over reddened skin, like ants crawling.

Birds chirped from the gardens, their songs trilling into the corridors as he walked. The half moon gates were trimmed with black cherry wood, the sun shining. But all Yixing could think of were the number of guards they passed, the locked doors runed with talismans that even he could barely read.

He shuddered, the silk of his robes itching against his skin.

Everything around him was only a hideous reminder of what had been done to him, the scars that had been carved into his mind, his flesh.

The rune over his heart twinged and he raised a hand to touch it, bile rising up in the back of his throat.

Even when he was not present, Lay still managed to turn his stomach.

He was taken to a different bath, this one with stone steps leading into the water. Two-meter-high walls stood around three sides of the bath, impossibly slick and smooth.

Yixing waited until the guards had left before he even reached for the sash. His hands trembled as he untied it, his skin prickling when the fabric slid off his shoulders.

He turned his head this way and that as he stepped into the water, goosebumps rising on his arms. Fear bubbled in the pit of his stomach as he submerged himself.

The water was crystal clear and warm, the scent of lilies filling his nostrils as he reclined against the wall of the pool. It had been made to resemble a real spring, with real gardenias planted around the rocky outcropping that made up the pool.

A goldfinch looked down at him from a high branch sticking out over the wall, chirping happily.

Despite the ants crawling over his skin, Yixing managed a smile. He swirled the water around him, skating his fingers over the surface.

The floorboard creaked.

Chills ran down his spine until the intruder came into view. It was merely a servant bearing the bath oils. She disappeared as quickly as she appeared, leaving the tray by the pool.

Still, Yixing did not dare to let down his guard.

He reached for the oils tentatively, not at all surprised to find that they were his favourite scents. The thought of Lay picking out the oils made his stomach churn.

Fragments of the night before came unbidden. Yixing’s fingers clenched around the handle of the oil pot, a shuddering breath spilling from his lips.

The ceramic pot shattered against the far wall, golden oil drenching the rocks. Yixing curled into himself, hugging his knees to his chest as the sobs came heaving out.

Through the blur of his tears, he found his way to the remains of the pot. The shards cut into his hand when he picked it up, an edge slicing into his palm. He bled into the water, red streaking down his pale hands. It was beautiful in a macabre way, a red flower blooming in the dark.

“Put that down, my flower.”

The voice sent shivers down his spine. Yixing sucked in a sharp breath, clutching the shard in his hand. It stung, digging deeper into an already open wound.

Lay stood behind him, knee-deep in the pool. He was fully clothed, his black robes already soaked.

Yixing shuddered, cringing away. He was acutely aware of his own nakedness, of the water trickling down his body, the tears carving lines down his face.

The rune on his chest lit up on fire and he doubled over. An animalistic scream tore out of his throat as he sank to his knees in the water, the broken shard of ceramic slicing ribbons into his palm.

There were hands on him, prying his hands apart until he dropped it and then the world began to spin.

When he awoke again, the sun was already high in the sky. Afternoon light spilt into the room when he sat up, the blood-red covers falling away.

His hand was bandaged but Yixing could not remember why. The last memory he had was of Junmyeon, curled up in his cell and shaking like a leaf.

Yixing touched the bandage curiously, sliding out of bed. The chains were gone and he could move freely about the room.

Something glinted on top of the dresser, catching the light. Whatever it was cast lovely reflections on the wall, little mirror shards of light.

Yixing’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the object, snatching it up so quickly that his bandaged palm twinged.

It was his hairpin.

He was not certain if Lay had meant to leave it behind but he was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Tucking it neatly into his pocket, he hurried to the door. His stomach sank when he rattled the knob, the wood remaining unyielding.

There was nothing to do but wait. He examined the talismans around the room, his magic humming beneath his skin. It was still trapped but he could feel it more strongly now.

A servant entered with a tray of food, the smell mouthwatering. Yixing spied roast meat on the tray and a plate of bok choy. The rice was fluffier than anything he had ever eaten in his life, the bamboo shoots tender and sweet.

There was even a bowl of broth, with pig liver and intestines and a layer of oil floating on the top.

Yixing dug in. He was absolutely famished; his last meal having been the congee he had when he had arrived.

Lay did not come to see him when he was finished, nor did he arrive when the plates had been cleared.

In fact, Yixing would not see any sign of the emperor himself until a full week later, when he was summoned to the throne room.

Servants brought him little trinkets and instruments to play with and new robes. _Black_ robes. The emperor’s colours. He was not permitted out of his room and could only stare longingly at the gardens outside his window whenever he was not at his instrument.

The only human contact he had were the guards and servants who brought him his food and playthings.

Having lived in a tiny temple with constant contact with people, Yixing grew incredibly restless. He fiddled with the strings on his guqin until it broke, slashing across his hand without warning.

It stung, a line of red blood welling to the surface at once. Yixing thumbed over it, sticking his thumb into his mouth before he quite knew what he had done.

The metallic taste made his stomach turn. He pulled it out, rubbing at his chest absently.

The dull hum of his magic turned into a roar in his ears.

Yixing bent over, biting down hard on his lips to keep the scream from tearing out of his throat when the rune there burned. It scorched him as if someone had lit a match and ran its flame over his skin.

He looked down just in time to see it flare orange before dissipating, like the embers of a dying fire.

Yixing touched the scarred skin curiously, tracing a healing rune over it. He did not think it would work, not with the talismans in the room but the scar lightened visibly, sinking deeper into the skin.

“Oh,” he said aloud.

All this time, the rune could have been deactivated. It must have been his blood that did it, because Lay had drawn it in his own blood.

Yixing folded his hands into his lap, acting as if his blood was not roaring in his ears when the doors were unlocked. He did not fight when cold metal was shackled around his wrists and throat.

But his magic fought for him, buzzing in his veins. It was angry at being locked away.

Yixing kept his composure, his fingers clenched into fists, so tight that the cut on his bandaged hand stung. He allowed himself to be led out quietly. There was no way he could memorize the halls, not when everything looked the same with guards at every turn.

He was led to the same throne room as before, his heart catching in his throat when the doors swung open to reveal Lay sitting upon his throne.

The emperor had a lady at his side, dressed in fine silks. Her hair dripped with jewels, wound up into an elaborate do.

Yixing blinked, surprised when the lady bent to whisper into Lay’s ear, the tray in her hands barely wobbling. She straightened and her gaze could have cut him in half when she turn it towards him.

Mentally, Yixing counted the number of guards in the room. His magic hummed, pleased to be used as he spread it out. It touched every life form within twenty feet of the throne room, recoiling only when he attempted to brush against the lady at Lay’s side.

Yixing bit down his surprise when he was forced to kneel before the throne. A bangle on the woman’s wrist caught his eye as he went down, the gold of the jewellery shimmering oddly.

He would recognize that bangle anywhere.

Gritting his teeth, Yixing lowered his forehead to the dais, his heart thudding in his chest. The floor shook as Lay descended to him.

A hand curved under his chin, Lay’s signature smirk on his lips when he tilted his head up.

“How I’ve missed you, my flower,” he purred, stroking Yixing’s cheek.

Yixing did not hesitate.

His magic exploded to life, Lay’s skin blackening at once, the cells withering. Lay screamed, stumbling back, his eyes wide with shock. Yixing lunged, drawing the pin from his pocket.

The emperor’s robes were made of silk, slippery like water between his fingertips when he grabbed him. Lay did not even have time to scream a second time before red bloomed over his white skin.

Yixing screamed too, his mouth filling with hot blood. His magic fanned out, turning the guards that surged towards them into dust before settling.

“Oh, my lotus,” Lay murmured when Yixing stumbled back, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. The blood had stained his teeth, a gruesome sight when he smiled. “Did you think it would be that easy to kill me?”

“You-,” Yixing choked, spitting scarlet all over the dais. He touched the rune on his collarbone, shuddering when a tingle spread through him.

Lay began to laugh, an almost maniacal sound as Yixing struggled to keep his composure.

It was the very same moment that a wave of water crashed down over them both. The pressure sent Yixing flying back into the nearest pillar, the impact snatching the breath from his lungs. He crumpled onto the floor, gasping when Lay was surrounded in a bubble of water, his arms pinned to his sides.

“Junmyeon,” he gasped, struggling to breathe. Water found their way down his lungs, choking him. “Junmyeon, stop!”

The woman’s head snapped towards him and Yixing gurgled, hands flying to his throat.

With a growl, she flung Lay into the steps, the impact knocking him out at once.

“Ow,” Yixing said, cringing back into the pillar as the woman walked towards him, every step purposeful. His chains clinked and he straightened, watching in awe as the illusion melted away and Junmyeon stood before him.

He still looked drab and grey; his hair greasy but he had never looked more beautiful in Yixing’s eyes.

Yixing staggered towards him, one hand clasped over the wound in his chest, nearly collapsing into his arms.

“What did he do to you?” Junmyeon whispered, holding him close. He kissed the top of his head and Yixing dissolved into the touch.

“He’s going to wake up soon,” he said, “what are we going to do?”

“Bind him. With his own talismans. You’ve been studying them, haven’t you?” Junmyeon asked, matter of fact. He wiped a hand over his face, grimacing at the grime that came off.

Yixing nodded, chewing his lip.

“Where’s- Baekhyun?” he asked haltingly. He was certain there was only one person in the world who could have made an illusion so complete that Lay was fooled.

“Still in the cells,” Junmyeon answered, his brows knitting. “He is weak, was weak when he made the illusion. By some twist of fate, the emperor-.” He broke off with a look of disgust at Lay’s still body. “He assigned us to cells beside each other. Not his smartest moment.”

Yixing faltered.

“He _is_ younger,” he said, hands shaking as he traced a healing rune over himself. The blood trickling from his wounds slowed.

“Baekhyun won’t have the strength to maintain another illusion for a while. You’ll have to take his place,” Junmyeon said, his tone steely. “You share his face. Now you must share his throne.”

“What?” Yixing blurted out. “That’s not possible, Myeon-.”

“We share their faces, Yixing. It must be for a reason,” Junmyeon said steadily. “Think of it. Us. We could rule this land.”

“You want to kill Baëkhyun and Suhø?” Yixing gaped at his friend, his hands falling to his sides in shock. “ _Junmyeon._ ”

“They’d kill us first if we didn’t,” Junmyeon snapped, slamming his boot into Lay’s head when the man groaned. “You have the power to do this, Yixing. You just _decimated_ those guards.”

He gestured to the piles of red dust that lay around them, evidence of the carnage Yixing had unleashed.

“We’re not _meant_ to do this, Myeon,” Yixing whispered, horrified that his friend could even fathom such a thing. “They were born into the throne. _We_ are merely copies of the original.”

“Baekhyun agreed, you know,” Junmyeon said, his voice steady. His gaze was faraway and Yixing desperately wanted to reach him, to pull him out of whatever hell he was stuck in. The Junmyeon he knew would never have thought of such a thing, much less speak it aloud.

“I- we are not killers,” Yixing stuttered, squeezing his fingers into fists. “Junmyeon-.”

“You were ready to kill him,” Junmyeon said, unwavering. He opened his palm, a globe of water floating in it. Yixing saw himself reflected in it. “He doesn’t have to die. Not yet. I know you’re soft for him, no matter what _sick_ things he has done to you.”

Yixing recoiled, shaking his head when Junmyeon tried to reach for him.

“No. That’s not-. I won’t do this,” he said, “I won’t _kill_ -.”

“You will,” Junmyeon snarled, niceties abandoned. “Look what he did to Baekhyun. What he has done to you!”

“He- ah!” Yixing screamed, staggering back when a new wave of pain struck him. There was someone in his head, swinging a sledgehammer around. Memories swam through his mind, phantom pain and touches that made his stomach turn and bile rise up in his throat.

“Wha- what did he-?”

“I erased your memories,” a quiet voice spoke up.

Yixing lunged forward the moment Junmyeon raised his hand, catching his wrist before he could strike him. He flung the chains on his body around Lay, yanking his arms to his sides.

“You hurt me,” he said, almost under his breath.

Lay blinked up at him through his lashes, suddenly heartbreakingly young. He cradled his scorched hand close to him, raising a finger to draw a healing rune.

“Move that finger and I will break it,” Junmyeon threatened, his voice a low growl.

Lay’s lips curved and he straightened.

“You wouldn’t,” he purred, “not when it’ll hurt him too.” He jerked his chin in Yixing’s direction, folding his hands into his lap, looking for all the world like he was sitting down for tea.

Junmyeon glanced at Yixing, a furious gaze that made Yixing tremble and recoil.

“It seems you are at quite the impasse,” Lay said, “any thoughts on how you might continue before my guards arrive? News would have reached my blood thirsty brothers by now and they would be more than happy to rip your heads off for daring to rebel against me.”

“They don’t love you enough to face down three of us,” Junmyeon snapped.

“Oh, it’s not love, dearest. It’s loyalty.”

“You have no loyalty,” Junmyeon growled.

“Loyalty is perhaps the wrong word,” Lay purred, tapping his lips. “But it doesn’t matter. My brothers will arrive soon and this time, I will not stop them from killing you. In fact, I will relish it,” he said, with a brilliant smile that sent chills Yixing’s spine.

“Of course, my lotus is safe. He was under another’s influence-.”

“I was not,” Yixing said, stumbling over his words. Terror bloomed like a lotus in his chest and he was not sure who he was more afraid of.

Lay or Junmyeon.

“I didn’t know they planned this-.”

“You are technically my courtesan, dearest and under my protection,” Lay purred, rising to his feet.

Junmyeon raised his hand but Yixing grabbed him, pulling him back. When he realised what he had done, he dropped his wrist like a hot coal, tasting bile and blood in his throat.

“You have nowhere to go, my lotus. I will hunt you down no matter how far you run,” Lay cooed. His eyes glittered and Yixing was vividly reminded of the memories that had been erased from his mind.

He shuddered, backing away. Before Junmyeon could say anything, Yixing bolted across the throne room. His stomach churned when he stepped into a pile of red dust, leaving streaks all over his skin as he ran.

The guards swarmed him the moment he stumbled out into the sunlight, their black and gold flag surrounding his vision.

Yixing sucked in a sharp breath, readying himself.

His magic boiled in his veins, calling for him to use it, to turn them to dust like the dust that clung to his legs.

Yixing stared around him, eyes almost unseeing as the guards pooled, getting larger and larger until they had filled the square with their black armour and long spears.

The wind blew through his hair, through the flags the soldiers bore and in it, he smelled the scent of death and war.

“Come back, my flower,” Lay called, his voice floating on the wind. It sent chills down Yixing’s spine and he spun around, staggering.

“I’ll kill your pretty boy toy if you don’t.”

The soldiers closed in tighter, until there was a sea of them, stretching everywhere that Yixing could see. He touched the wound on his chest, gasping when pain seared through him.

Blood trickled out of his mouth and he barely caught his footing, clutching at his chest.

Lay’s lips were curved in triumph when he stepped out into view, holding Junmyeon against himself. He had a blade to his throat and Junmyeon was visibly holding himself back from drawing out all the water in the man’s body.

His eyes flicked to Yixing’s, desperate.

Yixing shuddered, fingers flexing weakly. He turned his head, glancing down at the broken shards of his hairpin.

Lay’s grin froze on his face when he raised it high into the air.

“My lotus, _don’t!_ ”

“Yixing!”

Lay’s scream pierced his heart. Yixing staggered, sweat gleaming on his cheeks when the guards rushed forward.

Junmyeon flung Lay off him, the thud when the emperor landed sickening. He collapsed beside Yixing, tearing at his sleeves with trembling hands.

“It’s non lethal,” Yixing gasped, “I can’t-.”

Junmyeon flung up a hand and all the guards around them crumpled, clasping at their throats, weapons clattering onto the concrete.

“I know,” he whispered, cupping his cheeks. He kissed him tenderly. “I know.”

“You can’t kill him,” Yixing murmured as Junmyeon wrapped a torn sleeve around his knee, tying it off neatly. He glanced behind him, shuddering when Lay stared back at him, eyes wide. “You can’t kill them.”

Real fear reflected in his eyes as Yixing was helped to his feet, leaning heavily against Junmyeon.

“We don’t need- to kill the others,” Yixing said, trying to steady his voice, “we just need to be their equal. And we are.”

He raised a trembling hand, tangling his fingers with Junmyeon’s. Junmyeon allowed it, gazing into his eyes. For a moment, Yixing wished they could be anywhere but there, just the two of them in the big, big world.

He _needed_ Junmyeon to _see_. To see that the world burning, coated in ash and blood was not his answer. Not _their_ answer.

“As you wish,” Junmyeon whispered at last, inclining his head. “Your Majesty.”

He pressed their lips together, ignoring Lay’s outraged cry. A weight rolled off Yixing’s shoulders and he stroked a bandaged hand over Junmyeon’s cheek, rubbing their noses together.

Yixing traced a healing rune over himself. Strength surged through him, tingling from their joined hands and he looked gratefully at Junmyeon.

Kneeling, he pulled aside Lay’s robes. The man was trembling, clutching at his injured knee as blood pooled and seeped into the wooden slats of the floor.

Yixing set his jaw, tracing the rune he had seen all too often now, scattered about his room, onto Lay’s collarbone.

He turned his head away when Lay screamed again, the rune burning a fiery orange into his skin, biting so hard on his lower lip that he drew blood.

“Take him away.”


End file.
